A Dire Situation
by FenrirMoridin
Summary: This is my second fic based on the Shadowlands D&D campaign run by MechaGM on his twitch channel. This time I focus on the events surrounding the party's dire wolf mounts after they became separated from their riders. I also kinda ripped off how I treated the wolves, as well as the basis of how they name themselves, from Robert Jordan's depictions of wolves in the Wheel of Time.
1. To Catch a Wolf

Meadow Runner chased after the frightened stag, weaving around trees as the pack pursued its prey in the dimly lit forest. The autumnal sun still hung low, its rays still too low and weak to depart any real warmth to the running wolf. Not that the chill slowed him down any: the excitement of the hunt coursed through his body as fast as the blood that kept him alive, his heart pounding to the beat of the hunt. Meadow Runner would only stop when the hunt was over, the prey slain for the nourishment of the pack. If the irregularity of the deer's movement was any indication the moment would be soon, exhaustion clearly beginning to bleed through the stag's graceful movements. Sensing the inevitable kill, Meadow Runner tapped into what reserves of energy he had left, eager for the killing blow, the transcendent moment when life and death mixed as teeth tore through the delicate anatomy of the neck. Saliva dripped from Meadow Runner's jaws as he drew close enough to the stag to see the desperation in its eyes, the knowledge that it had lost the day. Silent as death, he tensed his legs for one final push and launched himself into the air, excitement rising as he jaws began to close on the stag's neck and his nostrils were filled with the scent of animalistic fear and spiders-

Meadow Runner immediately began to stir in his pen, his dream broken by the intrusive smell of spiders and cold rock. It was a scent all the wolves knew well, one that always made the scar over his right eye itch with remembered pain. He still didn't understand how Moonlit Glade's Shadow could bear to carry a drow with that horrid smell, even if the source wasn't evil like the rest of the wretched dark elves. It wasn't the smell of one drow that had caused Meadow Runner to stir, however: the way it hung heavy in the air there had to be at least six of them crowded in the pens where the inn's customers' mounts were kept. Unwillingly his mind flew back to one of his earliest memories, the first time he encountered the smell of drow. Searing pain as a blade flashed over his right eye, robbing him of its sight. Menacing laughter fading in the distance as he ran, yelping, to his mother's side. The crushing sensation of his father's paw pushing down on his chest, the message from the elder wolf all to clear: the smell of drow was always associated with pain and oppression, and he should never grow comfortable with it. Against his better instincts, the bitter memories brought out a low growl as his hatred for the drow surged to life within him. Unfortunately the growl betrayed his awakened state, and Meadow Runner was the first of the wolves to feel the bite of a silent bolt from a drow's handheld crossbow before darkness claimed his mind.

* * *

Midnight Glen's Shadow willed his ears to stillness, resisting the urge to shift them to better catch the almost-imperceptible twang of small crossbows being fired. He was the lightest sleeper among the wolves and thus the only one with the presence of mind to remain calm as the stench of betrayal filled the pen's air. He had heard the drow and their pitiful attempts at stealth before they had begun to fire, but he kept quiet and hung near the shadows in the back of the pen, his body as tensed as it could be without betraying how he was awake. He would only have one chance to get away and find their masters, and it depended on that one moment when the drow opened his pen to make sure he could get a good shot at the wolf.

As if on cue, Shadow began to hear the gentle hiss of metal sliding over metal as a drow unlocked his pen. The door sung open slowly, the intruder desperate to prevent any sound from escaping. Fortunately for Shadow the drow was so focused on not making any sounds of his own that he failed to notice the barest of swishing sounds as Shadow's fur brushed the floor, the wolf preparing for his desperate leap. After a few tense seconds Shadow finally saw the dimmest outline of a crossbow tip as the drow swung the door open with the same arm that held the weapon. Any of the other wolves would have chosen that moment to launch their escape attempt, but Shadow was the most experienced when it came to battle. He waited out that deceptive moment, prepared for the crucial second when the drow had decided his shot and began to pull the trigger.

* * *

Arul Mo'Shurah took a steadying breath, then held it in a futile attempt to calm his nerves as he opened the door to the final wolf pen. He wouldn't be so nervous, except by this point all the other wolves had growled before his companions silenced them with the tranquilizer bolts. His target was eerily quiet and had such black fur that he had to use his dark vision to make him out in the dim recesses of the pen. He couldn't tell if the wolf was still truly asleep: he couldn't make out any motion, but so did most prey before it became a predator's lunch. After a couple more breaths he decided he had a good enough bead on the wolf to risk taking his shot, his finger just beginning to move to the trigger to launch a bolt at the black wolf's forehead. Arul would remember centuries down the line the intense embarrassment he felt when he saw the wolf become a blur of motion and shrieked in surprise, his aim going wide and the crossbow bolt sailing harmlessly past the wolf's right shoulder. Everything after that was a blur as the wolf ran into him, the lupine momentum sending him crashing against the door and compressing his rib cage with the force of the impact. He lay on the ground, wheezing among the straw and animal offal, listening to the distress of the other drow as the wolf raced past them before they could reload their crossbows and get off reliable shots. The sound of the wolf's impressive escape gradually lessened, although Arul would never know if it was because of the wolf's speed or the rapid onset of unconsciousness.

* * *

Midnight Glen's Shadow ran through the streets of Welgard, sure that he could find temporary safety in the surrounding forests until he could find their masters. He ran as fast as possible, hoping that he could get through the gate before the hostile drow. He heard the slap of his paws on the cobblestones reverberate from the buildings along the street, the town slowly stirring as dawn's light began to peek over the horizon. Shadow quickened his pace even more, desperate to reach the gates before the bustle of the town's daytime activity trapped him in the city with his drow hunters. His pants grew heavy and desperate before the gate appeared in the distance and Shadow saw dark humanoid figures moving around the gate. He slowed down, then sped up again as he realized the figures moved sedately, clearly fighting off the last vestiges of sleep instead of preparing themselves for a wayward wolf. Shadow shifted to the right of the street, hugging the shadows of the building to avoid the guards' notice until he could escape through the gate.

Just as Shadow began to feel hope that his escape would continue without interruption, he saw a lightly garbed drow run from an alleyway across the street. He slowed his approach as the runner talked quickly with the guard before running back from whence he came, leaving the guard to quickly yell out some orders to his compatriots. In the span of about a minute there were several guards hovering before the gate, looking in the shadows as if scared something would jump out at them. Shadow quickly banished his growing sense of despair, slowing his approach to ensure that the guards wouldn't catch his form as he slunk through the shadows. This would be Shadow's only chance, before the rising sun stole most of the possible hiding places in the city. Just as desperation was about to get the best of him, he saw the little door beside the gate open as the outside watch turned in for the day. Shadow dashed toward the portal, knowing that hesitation could well prove fatal. Unfortunately, even as he pressed his way past the guards moving through the door, their eyes wide with shock at the dire wolf rushing past, he felt the bite of a blade as it stabbed into his left shoulder as the most alert drow swung his blade at the fleet figure of the wolf. Shadow felt the blade tear into his body but didn't stop: if he did, he would surely draw his last breath there on the threshold of his escape. He felt the blade tear free as he escaped into the clearing around the walls before dashing toward the tree line. He heard the whistle of arrows as they passed by him, then a flurry of thuds as the final few shots thudded into the trees as Shadow finally reached the temporary safety of the forest.

After ten or so minutes passed Shadow finally felt fatigue catch up with him, his breath ragged with exhaustion from the night's activities. His steps were slowly drifting to the left as he favored his wounded side, the gash throbbing with pain every time an errant branch slammed into it. The blood loss was beginning to dull his thoughts, until eventually he had to slow to a walk to avoid braining himself on a random tree in the forest. After about an hour even that was too much and Shadow resigned himself to finding a suitable place to rest, looking for any place that would hide him from his hunters' sight. Shadow had waited too long to look for shelter, though, and ended up collapsing in the middle of a clearing only an hour outside of the walls surrounding Welgard.

Shadow slowly stirred, wondering if he was dreaming. His nostrils were full of the scent of roasted squirrel and his left side, which should have been wracked with pain and infection, felt more powerful and limber than it had in years. As he opened his eyes he saw a cloaked figure standing by a horse, arranging the various straps until they seemed sturdy enough to his liking. He began talking to Shadow, but the wolf couldn't hear it over the rumbling of his stomach as he noticed the remains of a campfire with several roasted squirrels left propped up next to the dimly glowing ashes. He ran towards the meat and voraciously tore into the roasted flesh, eating to restore the energy he had lost.

* * *

Varric stared at the large ebon wolf as it tore into the squirrels he had left to help restore its energy after his healing. He was sure it was one of the five wolves that he had seen with the travelers that had gone to the Temple of Moradin, although he couldn't fathom how it had come to be in the middle of that clearing with such a large wound in its side. Fortunately the Raven Queen had heard his prayer and decided that the wolf's time had not come, giving Varric the power to mend the wolf's flesh and drive out the incipient infection. He reached out to the minor spell he had used to hide the campsite, dispelling it into the air as the finally swung onto his horse. Before he started off, though, he heard a low whine on his right side. Staring down, he saw the wolf nuzzle his right leg, clearly thankful for the food and the healing. He held out his hand and it gave it a quick lick before returning to the fire and the other squirrels. Varric opened his mouth, about to call the wolf back, then closed it as he realized the wolf's intent: although thankful, it would stay in the area until it had done what it needed to do. He let out a soft sigh, then made a quick prayer to the Raven Queen to protect the rest of the wolf's companions from the harm it had escaped on its own.

Varric was only gone from the campsite for a minute or two when he felt a small, nagging sensation. He turned around on his horse to see the wolf, still barely visible between the trees, watching his departure in silence. As Varric watched the wolf slowly turned and began to walk slowly into the forest, back towards the city of Welgard. Varric felt his conscience rise up, and made a second prayer to the Raven Queen, this time begging her for enough power to cast a spell. As divine power flooded him he gave the wolf's departing figure one last gift, a rare enchantment he had devised over his years of service to his goddess. It would only work once, and only when the wolf most desperately needed it, but Varric felt his conscience rest as an inner voice told him it would enough. He didn't know if it was the Raven Queen's divine interference or a trick his mind played to appease his conscience, but he was sure that the wolf would survive its upcoming hardships and that the enchantment would be enough to get it through the worst of it.


	2. To Tire a Wolf

Meadow Runner felt a snout push into his side, shaking his body gently to wake him up. He attempted to open his eyes only to meet the intense glare of the noontime sun. It took a little over a minute for him to adjust and to open his eyes far enough to get a good look at his surroundings. First he noticed the retreating auburn figure of Branches Whipped by Gales as she went to shake the other wolves awake. He quickly turned around and glanced at his surroundings but didn't see Midnight Glen's Shadow; he wasn't surprised that the wily veteran was the only wolf to escape the fiendish drow ambush. Meadow Runner quickly dismissed the other notion that popped into his head with that thought: that maybe Shadow hadn't escaped but had been too hard to subdue. To escape the ghoulish notion Meadow trotted over to the sleeping figure of Rolling Boulder, whose tan fur almost glowed in the harsh sunlight. After a couple of nudges Boulder began to stir, leaving Meadow to see if Gales had succeeded at alerting the fourth wolf to their predicament. As Meadow turned he saw his fears were groundless; Gales walked side by side with Crashing Bear, the latter's brown fur matted where the crossbow bolt had found purchase. Before any of them could begin to gather themselves, though, they heard the tormented squeal of rusty metal across the ground from them, followed swiftly by a roar of excitement from many throats.

Meadow looked in the direction of the sound and noticed the entirety of their surroundings for the first time. As bright as the sun was, its glare was magnified at least two-fold by the sand scattered around them in a large square. Outside the square the ground dropped away quickly for several feet until hitting a low wall encircling the entire area they were in. Above the wall Meadow saw many humanoid faces, their mouths open as they screamed in excitement. Across from the wolves Meadow saw the source of their excitement, as a rusted metal gate slowly lifted away to reveal a pack of four vicious looking dogs. The dogs were held back by a drow handler, his whip held up so that the tip dangled before the dogs' eyes. Their hides were crisscrossed with a panoply of scars, many of which clearly originating from the whip the drow handler casually dangled before his subjects. Meadow saw a smirk pass over the drow's face as he lifted the whip and the dogs bounded forward, baying for the wolves' blood.

Meadow watched as the dogs began to spread out, barking and growling at their larger dire wolf cousins. Although clearly outmatched, the dogs began to move forward, their eyes crazed with the remembered pain of their treatment. The largest one leapt for Meadow, his slavering jaws narrowly missing as Meadow nimbly leapt to the side. With a quick snap of his jaws Meadow ended the poor creature's life, fearing that the madness he saw depart the hound's eyes in death would soon grip them. It was only a few seconds more until the rest of the dogs were dispatched, clearly outmatched by the larger and more experienced dire wolves. A cheer resounded through the coliseum at the dire wolves' victory; the common people had come to see blood spilled for their goddess, with little care to whether it was canine or lupine. Meadow looked up as he heard a female voice pierce through the crowd's clamor and saw a stately looking drow female on a balcony, separated from the raucous crowd. He sat down and listened as the female drow droned on for a minute or two, before several harassed looking humans walked out of the gate across from the wolves and carried off the dogs' corpses. After several more minutes they heard growls coming across from the gate. The crowd began cheering again as the gate lifted to reveal the wolves' next opponents.

Meadow and the other wolves would know little else but battle for the next few weeks. Every few days they would be taken from their pens and thrown into gladiatorial matches against all kinds of creatures as the same drow noblewoman watched. The wolves were ever victorious, but the constant battling was beginning to wear them down: they were rarely fed, usually only receiving what flesh they could rip off of their victims before the bodies were disposed and the next batch of creatures were brought in. With no time to heal each wolf began to collect an assortment of half-healed wounds, infected flesh palely stretched across gaps in their fur. The only reason they weren't executed was their popularity with the crowd, which began to cheer more and more as the wolves appeared in the coliseum.

* * *

Midnight Glen's Shadow watched as his fellow wolves were attacked by a set of grey wolves. It was the last match of the day and his companions were at the weariest he had seen them. It had taken him a week to find a place in the wall around Welgard that he could sneak through, then a couple of more days before he finally tracked down his companions' scent to the coliseum. Since then he had watched their matches, hoping to find a way to save them. Unfortunately the pens where they were kept were under constant guard, which meant that the only unguarded way he could see to get to them was through the gate they went through every time they entered the coliseum's central area, and it probably only appeared unguarded because the guard stayed on the inside. So, he came to the coliseum every day, and every day he had his hopes of rescue crushed by the reality of the situation of his comrades. He watched as the last grey wolf fell, its throat crushed under Crashing Bear's ferocious bite. All four of the dire wolves were panting heavily, and Shadow knew from his experience that they all had the look of warriors on the brink of total exhaustion. One thing was clear: all four wouldn't last another day's worth of battles in the coliseum.

* * *

Khairissa threw her wine glass onto the floor of the balcony, the tinkling sound of breaking glass doing nothing to assuage her anger at the continued survival of the wolves. After the debacle where the adventurers escaped after she had decided to kill them in the morning, she had thought that she could get some semblance of revenge by killing their mounts in her coliseum. Unfortunately, the only thing she could throw against them were the creatures she could pay off local hunters to get, all of which were clearly not formidable enough to take on the trained dire wolves. Even worse, she could hear sounds of discontent rise from the crowd, with several even questioning the fairness of having the wolves battle so often without being allowed to properly heal.

"What, a few puppy dogs giving ya a hard time?" a deep voice boomed behind Khairissa. She heard her guard raise his voice in protest at the voice's owner's intrusion until he cut off with a sickening splat. Khairissa turned to find her guard face down in a pool of his own blood at the feet of an enormous orc. The orc grinned around around his serrated tusks before nudging the guard with one of his boots. "Ya drow need to be less delicate. It ain't any fun if ya break with a little push."

Khairissa sighed, having long grown used to Morgel's brutish habits. As crude as most Northern Orcs were, Morgel made the most brutish of them seem like chivalrous knights in comparison. It probably had to do with the hint of ogre in his ancestry, although Khairissa had met enough ogres to know Morgel would be extreme even for them. She opened her mouth to reprimand the orc, but then fell silent as she realized why Morgel was probably there. Khairissa took a breath and calmed herself, trying to quash her budding hope before she-

"It was good hunting up north this time," Morgel said as he dropped liked a rock into Khairissa's chair, knowing that his statement would fill her with enough elation that she wouldn't be able to sit anyways. The orc leaned back in the chair and let out a contented sigh, before casually reaching out and taking the half full bottle of wine left on the stand by her chair. The orc casually guzzled the contents before chucking the bottle over into the crowd and letting out a mighty belch. Khairissa forgave Morgel his atrocious manners, though, because his news meant that the wolves' time was finally up.

* * *

Saranna Arthus watched her mistress's face contort with twisted glee as the barbaric orc chieftain explained his recent catches to the drow noblewoman. Saranna couldn't quite make out what the orc was saying, but she didn't dare draw any nearer to the monster: Morgel had only made Khairissa this happy once before, and she celebrated her new hydra by letting Morgel "borrow" some of her female slaves. Saranna felt her gorge rise at the memory, at how even Khairissa had blanched at the sight of what Morgel had done and ordered all the furnishings in the room burned. Saranna felt more worried than she even had several weeks ago, when she had that weird blackout and Khairissa had beaten her for the better part of an hour for a transgression she didn't even remember. Saranna looked at her mistress's face again, and felt a chill run up her spine as she looked directly in Khairissa's eyes and saw more than a hint of madness there. Saranna could always tell when Khairissa was about to abuse her, as what little warmth there was in her mistress's eyes would slowly leave them; looking in those eyes now, even the word glacial seemed inadequate.

* * *

Meadow Runner slumped to the bottom of his pen, his breath rushing out as exhaustion claimed his body. Half a dozen wounds all called off, stabbing him with pain in a rhythm that was quickly becoming more familiar than he would like. He turned to his left and licked what he could reach of his side. He couldn't clean all his wounds properly unless he stretched far enough to pull open old ones; either way, infection would find a way to creep in. He let out a yawn then let his mind drift off into fevered sleep.

Meadow dreamed that he was a pup again, before even the scar. He jumped at the various butterflies as they flitted about in the meadow, before running back to his mother when she howled for him. Most pups gave up their name for a new one after the matured to adulthood and had a unique experience that served as a good namesake. Meadow still loved the freedom of running through a meadow and feeling the sunlight shine on his fur, so he had kept the pup name, wearing it as proudly as the other wolves wore their adult ones. He barked happily at the sunlight beaming down on the meadow in his dreams, feeling contentedness spread throughout his entire body. He then saw his mother as she padded over, before turning him over and giving him a good cleaning. A refreshing chill spread across his entire body until the pleasant dream dissolved into a truly recuperative deep sleep.

After a few hours Meadow stirred from his sleep, awakening to a surprising lack of pain. As he shifted his body he felt the tightening of bandages that hadn't been there when he fell asleep. His nose twitched at the medicinal smell rolling off the bandages, but he deliberately laid his head down to avoid worrying at them; he didn't know why their wounds were being treated now, but even the noblest predator wouldn't turn down carrion if they found it during the hunt. He tested the air to distract himself, but the only thing he caught was the faintest whiff of human female. He couldn't make out anything else about who had helped heal his wounds, although he was pretty sure the scent of the human female couldn't belong to his master. A sigh escaped through his jaws as his mind turned to his newest master. Although she hadn't been his rider long, she had always cared for him more than any orc who had ever held his reins. He didn't know where she was, but he hoped she was doing better than he was.

* * *

Midnight Glen's Shadow walked through the forest to the north of Welgard, stretching out his legs after having to hold them still while he watched his companion wolves do battle. He scented a couple of rabbits but decided to ignore them for the moment: it would be easier to hunt them as the sun set and it would give him something to chew on during the evening. His day almost passed by without accident when he caught a faint sound of distress in the distance. Shadow paced towards the source of the sound, which he soon recognized as the sound of someone struggling futilely against a stronger force. After a couple of minutes he saw the struggle taking place: a small human woman was twisting and turning in the grasp of a much larger orc. Shadow had been taught never to attack an orc without his rider's orders, but after years of raids he had long since learned the differences between the northern and southern orc tribes. The orc's serrated tusks were a clear giveaway that he was from the north, so Shadow didn't hesitate as he jumped and bit out the surprised orc's throat.

The human female lay on the ground for several moments, her eyes wide in befuddlement as she looked at her unexpected savior. Shadow started to draw closer but stopped when his nose encountered the overwhelming stench of medicinal herbs: the human practically reeked from the stuff! Shadow bent his head and ran his muzzle through the ground a couple of times, eventually reducing the bitter smell to a sharp but negligible tang. He snorted a couple of times and then turned away from the smelly human. As he left he heard the female call out softly, but her voice trailed off as she clearly decided to accept her good fortune and let the wolf go his own way.

* * *

Saranna watched as the black wolf disappeared into the shadows, her heart rate just beginning to slow down and approach a reasonable pace. She couldn't believe her luck: when Morgel's man had found her she thought her life was done for. She probably would have been safe if she had left right away, but she had decided to make one last insult to her mistress before running away. The wolves would be in perfect health for their upcoming gladiatorial match. It might not be enough to save them from the horrors Morgel had brought, but they would at least die noble deaths worthy of the battles they had won to get as far as they had. Saranna giggled to herself, surprised by her own internal melodramatic wording of the situation. It seemed either fate or serendipity was looking out for her, though, sending a wolf to save her after she sacrificed her own safety to save the wolves in the coliseum. She looked back at where the town of Welgard was through the trees, before turning away to the east and heading off. As much as she wanted to try and find her family, the only thing waiting for her back in Welgard was a death worse than she could imagine. She tried to ignore the tears that ran down her face as she headed away from her enslaved family.


	3. To Kill a Wolf

It had been several days since the last time his companions had been forced into battle in the coliseum, but Midnight's Glen's Shadow felt a growing sense of worry. The town of Welgard was practically bursting with people, the air even more excited than that dreadful day when the wolves and their riders had first arrived. Shadow was barely able to sneak into his spot in the coliseum, and even if he wanted to he would have no chance of sneaking out while the crowd was packed in anticipation for the combat. Shadow watched as various human gladiators strutted about the coliseum, puffing out their chests and making all kinds of arrogant sounds before commencing battle. All that posturing for a few seconds of action before one of the humans would fall, screaming in pain, while the other limps of in victory. Shadow started to doze off, the victories and defeats of human gladiators holding no special meaning for him. It was the better part of an hour before a renewed wave of cheering roused him from his almost-slumber.

Shadow was surprised to see his companions emerge from the gate looking ready and well-rested. He couldn't even make out the wounds that had been slowly accumulating over the last few weeks of battle. Instead of comforting him, though, he felt a sense of dread; why would they heal the wolves after it took weeks to do that damage to them, unless the drow had something truly horrific planned? Shadow scanned the coliseum until he found the balcony where the drow noblewoman watched the battles. His heart sank even more as he saw the calm, contented smile on the female drow's face. Even if she hadn't known about the wolves' improved condition, her relaxed body language spoke clearly across the coliseum's dusty air: it didn't matter how healthy the wolves were considering the odds they were up against. Shadow stared at the gate the enemy always came through, feeling a chill run down his spine as the familiar squeal of metal on metal marked the opening of the first battle for his dire wolf companions.

* * *

Meadow Runner stared across the sand, his fears about the upcoming matches confirmed as he watched their enemies saunter across the coliseum's square. The very first match of the day, and their opponents were a set of four dire wolves, smaller and more slender than the orc-raised dire wolves but among the most formidable enemies they had faced in their short tenure in the coliseum. The only saving grace for Meadow and his companions was that their opponents were clearly starved in order to prompt them into battle. As vicious as hunger would make them, it would also dull the enemy wolves' teamwork and battle skills. Meadow and the other orc-raised dire wolves tightened their formation, letting the other dire wolves string themselves out as they circled the gladiatorial veterans. The crowd slowly grew silent as they waited for the first move, to see if the new dire wolves would launch a rookie assault or if the veteran wolves would launch a measured strike to feel out their opponents.

* * *

Khairissa gently swirled the wine in the glass in her right hand, watching as the wretched dire wolves surged forward in a united front and took down one of Morgel's dire wolves before the others could even react. She didn't worry about the bothersome wolves winning this match: the next one would almost certainly kill a couple of the wolves, and the remainder would stand no chance against the final creature Morgel had captured. She clung to that truth to avoid the remainder of last night's rage, when one of her female slaves had informed her of Saranna's disappearance. Even worse, before the wretched slave had escaped she had gone down to the pen that held the dire wolves and had taken care of their wounds. She could only hope that whatever forest creature had killed Morgel's man had also ripped out Saranna's throat and dragged the corpse to its lair. She relaxed the fingers on her right hand before she shattered the wine glass; she couldn't afford to keep breaking them, especially after Morgel had given her the prices for the creatures he had sold. Even as the last of Morgel's dire wolves fell she didn't regret her purchase: even at full health the wretched wolves had a much harder time than any of their earlier matches, with the russet one already limping slightly and the tan one nursing a decent gash on its left side. Khairissa threw back the glass of wine and downed it in a single gulp before leaning forward in her seat in anticipation for round two.

* * *

Meadow Runner looked over the other wolves as he caught his breath. Branches Whipped by Gales and Rolling Boulder were already nursing wounds, although neither seemed seriously hampered yet. Considering how tough the other dire wolves had been to fight, Meadow was just glad that both he and Crashing Bear had managed to come through relatively unscathed. The wolves huddled together, looking at the metal gate as it was slowly raised back up. It took several minutes for the human slaves to remove the corpses of the other dire wolves, which were significantly larger than the other creatures they had removed after the wolves' previous victories. Eventually the area was cleared for the next battle, and Meadow raised his head to see what horrors would issue from the gate next. All four of the wolves felt a ripple of instinctual fear pass through them as two massive figures issued out of the gate, their rumbling growls practically making the air shiver. None of the dire wolves had seen these creatures before, but that didn't mean they didn't know what they were: even the youngest pup would recognize worgs. The worgs were closer to mountains of fur than to mimicking the sleek figures of a wolf. Their bodies rippled with an outrageous amount of muscle, guaranteeing any hit from the worgs would devastate the dire wolves. The worgs eyes glinted evilly: unlike the poor dire wolves they had to face earlier, the worgs clearly acted without any coercion.

Meadow moved forward, the other dire wolves slowly forming a line behind them. They may outnumber the worgs, but meadow suspected that even two to one the dire wolves wouldn't be able to win. He turned to the right the quickly looked back at the other wolves, before pointing his snout at the worg to the left. He saw the worry in their eyes, but all three quickly began to move towards the worg he had pointed out. Three of them could definitely take down the worg. Meadow just had to hope that he could survive the other worg's attacks long enough to give the others the time they would need. Without hesitation Meadow ran at the other worg, hoping that it was as slow as it looked.

* * *

Midnight Glen's Shadow watched in horror as Meadow Runner went to fight one worg on his own. Unlike the other wolves he had experienced the misfortune to encounter a worg before, and the beast had almost killed both him and his rider at the time. Shadow watched as the other three wolves quickly surrounded one of the worgs, dashing in and nipping at its body before dashing out of the way of its large jaws. He tried to not watch Meadow as he dashed haphazardly around the other worg, desperately avoiding the larger creature's powerful jaws. All it would take was one moment's misfortune for Meadow to lose his life. The worg was clearly growing frustrated with the lithe wolf's movements, eventually rearing back and throwing its entire muscled mass at the dark grey wolf. Shadow felt his breath catch as Meadows figure completely disappeared. After a few tense seconds he noticed a growing pool of blood beneath the worg, and the crowd fell eerily silent at the prospect of having witnessed the first death among the valiant party of wolves. The worg let out a vicious grunt and stumbled to the side, Meadow darting out to the side. Although it was hard to tell, Shadow was pretty sure Meadow was favoring his front left leg, but the worg movement also revealed the large gash in its abdomen that was the source of most of the blood. Shadow tore his gaze from Meadow's plight and saw that the other wolves were still slowly wearing down the other worg, but much too slowly to be of any assistance to Meadow. If they didn't finish off their worg soon then Meadow's valiant attempt wouldn't save him from death.

* * *

Meadow Runner didn't need the waves of fiercely radiating pain to know that his left foreleg was in bad shape: although it wasn't broken, the limb could barely hold his weight after the worg clipped it its charge. It was blind instinct that had made him plunge underneath the worg then bite upwards, finding enough purchase to tear a decent sized hole in the beast. He had just managed to dart out from under the worg before it lowered its body in an attempt to crush the life from Meadow. He watched the worg slowly turn to face the wounded wolf, its eyes ablaze with fury that Meadow had managed such a telling wound on it. The worg slowly walked towards Meadow, finally taking the wolf's threat seriously. Meadow wouldn't be able to deliver such a lucky blow again, and from what he could hear of the other battle it seemed like reinforcements wouldn't come for quite awhile. Meadow slowly backed up, hoping the worg's newfound caution would give him a few seconds to find his balance with only three good legs. He only had a few seconds, but it was enough time for him to shift his center of weight and dodge the worg as it brought down its right paw right where Meadow's head had been just a second earlier. The worg turned its head a growled at Meadow, a guttural declaration that the battle was just beginning.

* * *

Khairissa leaned forward in her chair, watching as the dark gray dire wolf barely managed to avoid the worg's attack. She was almost impressed by the wolves' formation, although she recognized quickly that it would only work if the dark gray one was able to drag out its match with the worg. She didn't think the wolf would last much longer the way it was favoring one of its legs, especially as the worg began an assault with a level of cunning she wouldn't usually attribute to such a large and ferocious beast. Then again, Morgel had always impressed her with his ability to procure wicked beasts, and very few reminded her of the orc as much as these worgs did. She downed the rest of her wine and held out her empty glass, knowing one of her attendants would see to making sure it was filled again. She didn't dare tear her eyes away from the action, lest she miss the moment when one of the wretched wolves was finally slain.

* * *

Meadow Runner dodged another brutal swipe from the worg's paws, the claws passing close enough to shave off an inch from his fur. That was the closest one yet, and Meadow sensed that it would only take a couple more attacks for the worg to finally get a full sense of the wolf's capabilities. Meadow decided that a desperate gambit wasn't just the only chance for him to win: at this point, it was the only chance he had of not dying before the other three took down their worg. So, he subtly shifted his center of gravity before forcing himself to stumble and put down his left foreleg. As pain shot up the limb Meadow watched the worg surge forward, its jaws wide open as it went for where Meadow's throat would been, if the wolf hadn't put even more weight on his left forelimb, causing the limb in question to fold and the wolf to enter into a half voluntary, half accidental roll. Before the worg could draw itself back, Meadow struck out as hard as he could and rammed both his hind legs into the worg's throat. He felt the worg's blood shower over him as his hind claws tore through the worg's neck. The worg stood there silently for a second, a stupefied look on its face, before its eyes clouded over and it started to fall. Meadow just managed to drag himself out of the way, although he noticed both of his hind legs protest, his muscles most likely torn from the unusual maneuver. He looked across just as the second worg also collapsed, its fur wet with several dozen smaller wounds where the other dire wolves had managed to land small but significant wounds.

* * *

Khairissa tightened her fingers around the narrow flute of the wine glass, imagining it was a slender throat she could throttle to appease her rage. All four of the wolves were clearly wounded, and the dark grey won looked ready to collapse, but she didn't feel any satisfaction. The fact that she had wait until the final match for any of them to die robbed her of any sense of true victory, since the last creature was something the wolves couldn't possibly win against. According to Morgel several of his orcs had been killed by the creature before he personally intervened and caught the beast. Khairissa stood up as the crowd cheered for the wolves, then held up her hands for silence. Khairissa activated the small cantrip that allowed her to project her voice to the entirety of the coliseum, one of the smaller enchantments she had picked up in her administration of Welgard.

"My subjects, it's finally time for the pièce de résistance, the final battle to do honor unto the name of the Raven Queen!" She paused for a moment, letting the crowd's jubilation wash over her as they cheered for the goddess of death. "It's been a month since that noble band of warriors defeated the hydra, and in all that time we've lacked another creature strong enough to be a worthy sacrifice to our benevolent goddess." The crowd slowly fell silent, catching her cue for them to be quiet. "But after a month of searching we have finally found another creature worthy of honoring the Raven Queen!" The crowd exploded into cheering again, clearly excited over whatever creature could come close to a hydra in how impressive it was. It took a couple of minutes for the sound of cheering to dim down enough for Khairissa to feel confident that her magically enhanced voice could be heard. "So, my people, without further ado I give you…the Guulvorg!"

As the words left her mouth, the crowd cheered, drowning out the squeal of tortured metal as the coliseum gate once more opened. Even the raucous crowds fell silent, though, as they watched the fey form of the guulvorg appear from the gate. The guulvorg slowly walked out of the gate, its clawed feat making the platform shake slightly with every step. It took a couple of seconds for it to get through the gate, but once it was done the crowd was completely silent as they stared at the enormous abomination. If a worg looked like a dire wolf blown up to half again the size with three times the muscle, the guulvorg looked like a wolf fused with a lizard and blown up to staggeringly immense proportions. The guulvorg was unnaturally wiry, it's body stretched out into an emaciated-looking form that would have towered over even the worgs. As the guulvorg looked at the wolves it opened its jaws to reveal enormous jutting canines in a jaw large enough to bite a regular sized human cleanly in half. Its long tail whipped out from behind it, slamming down the tip which seemed to be in cased in some form of bone club. As its jaws opened to an unnatural angle the giant beast emitted a ghastly shriek that sent a chill running through everything else in the coliseum. The crowd's silence was almost deafening as they all realized that such a horrid creature must surely be beyond the four dire wolves, even if they weren't nursing the wounds from two prior battles.

Khairissa smiled as she watched the guulvorg slowly advance towards the dire wolves, the giant hunter clearly confident in its ability to win. As many times as the wolves had cheated fate, there was no way they could survive a confrontation with a creature so obviously beyond their ken. 'It would take the intervention of the Goddess herself,' Khairissa thought smugly to herself, 'and I doubt the bitch even pays attention to these stupid little games.' Khairissa went to take a sip from her glass, then noticed it was uncharacteristically empty. It was then that she noticed a growing commotion coming from her left, and she turned around toward that side just in time to watch a large black blur jump right for her chest. The force sent her flying back into the edge of the balcony, the impact sending her breath rushing out of her lungs, before she felt the blur tense and then spring off of her chest. Khairissa barely had time to realize her assailant was a black dire wolf before she blacked out, her abused rib cage only letting in enough air to keep her alive.

* * *

Meadow Runner and the other wolves all saw the guulvorg saunter out of the gate and knew their fate was sealed. None of them had ever seen a guulvorg, but the eldest wolves back at the orc encampment had often imparted a story of how fearsome the beasts could be. Their orc tribe had once been almost completely wiped out by a pair of ogres using guulvorg as mounts, the beasts causing just as much damage as their riders. There was no way they could beat such a creature on their own, their claws and teeth much to short to cause any real significant damage to the beast even if they were lucky enough to land a blow. Meadow moved forward, hoping that the few extra moments his death gave the other wolves would give them time to remember the entirety of their lives. As Meadow moved forward towards his death he held tightly onto two memories: the warmth of his mother as he curled up beside her as just a pup and the fiery-haired female human who had already cared more for him than any other rider he had carried into battle.

* * *

Midnight Glen's Shadow saw the guulvorg emerge from the gate and knew that the others were doomed. Confronted with the realization that he would soon be the lone wolf alive, Shadow lost all hope of somehow saving the other wolves. In a moment of clarity he decided that he would join his pack in death against a foe that was completely beyond them. He looked around until he saw the drow noblewoman's balcony; extending somewhat into the coliseum, it provided the only point where he could jump off and reach the square in the middle of the coliseum. His course planned, Shadow squeezed out of the cubbyhole where he usually hid and began to dash through the crowd of people, nimbly dodging past every obstacle in his way. He heard a wave of surprise move before and behind him as people noticed a large dire wolf running unrestrained through the crowd. Fortunately the appearance of the guulvorg had distracted the guards on the balcony, meaning they were just as surprised to see a large dire wolf burst out of the crowd running straight for the balcony their mistress was on. Shadow was just able to leap past them before they could bring their weapons to bear, the polished blades passing harmlessly past the wolf. Since there wasn't enough space on the balcony ledge for Shadow to find a good launching point the crafty wolf decided to use the next best thing: the drow noblewoman's body gave just enough give that he was able to put all of his strength into an impressive leap. As Shadow soared through the air he targeted the guulvorg, some unknown intuition leading him to aim his rapid descent towards the back of the monster's neck.

After a couple of seconds of exhilarating freefall Shadow smashed into the neck of the guulvorg, the concussive thud of the impact echoing around the coliseum. The force was almost enough to break all of Shadow's legs but insufficient to kill the guulvorg under ordinary circumstances. Fortunately for the wolves their situation was desperate enough that the enchantment Varric had placed on Shadow finally activated. The product of years of prayer and service to the Raven Queen, the enchantment was simple but profoundly powerful: it altered the probability that the victim would die by amplifying its body's natural weaknesses. The guulvorg was a mighty beast but when it was little more than a pup itself it had been trapped for a period when an underground warren holding prey had collapsed on its body. In its desperation to escape it had twisted its neck particularly harshly, causing several of its vertebrae to be slightly misaligned and weakened overall. When Shadow landed, the enchantment activated and magnified the force of the impact that reached those same weakened vertebrae. The force was just enough to rip the vertebrae away from each other, twisting the guulzorg's neck and cutting clean through its spinal cord. The guulvorg's entire body shuddered a couple of times as it desperately tried to move forward an attack the other dire wolves before it eventually succumbed to the wound. The collapse of its body caused the entire coliseum to shake and Shadow walked tumbled off of the corpse, wondering what miracle had occurred to cause the guulvorg to die. As his mind pondered his luck, he saw the other four dire wolves surround him and start nuzzling him in greeting. For the first time in a long while he felt like part of the pack again.

* * *

Khairissa slowly stirred as she felt one of her guards shaking her gently back and forth. She couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but as her senses began to return she remembered the large dire wolf and how it had used her as a launching pad into the coliseum. She staggered to her feet, pushing away the guard's arms as she turned toward the edge of the balcony. As her eyes met the corpse of the guulvorg, she felt a moment of pure bewilderment until her eyes continued downward and she saw all four of the wolves surrounding the black one that had assaulted her, greeting the old companion her men had failed to capture a month ago. Khairissa stared at the wretched wolves, all of them still breathing while the crowd burst out into a cacophony of cheering. Deep down inside her Khairissa felt something break as her entire vision became cloaked in a crimson veil.

"Lady Khairissa, you need to snap out of it!" Khairissa started as she finally heard the sound of her guard's voice of the blood pounding in her ears. She felt a sticky moistness on her hands and looked down to see the bloody remains of one of her female slave's head. Judging by the smears on the wall she had continuously smashed the poor thing's head against it, only stopping after her anger was exhausted. She looked at the drow guard who had addressed her, a nervous look on his face as he tried to avoid looking at the corpse at her feet. After a few seconds Khairissa stood up, wiping as much as the blood off as she could with the cleanest part of the dead slave's robes. The crowd was finally beginning to quiet down, which meant she had to present herself and comment on the wolves' victory. She waited a few seconds for her mind to calm down before putting on a smile and walking out onto the balcony, making sure that her still blood soaked arm was hidden from view.

"It seems that the Raven Queen has honored us as we honor her," Khairissa announced, the crowd cheering at her proclamation. She felt her bile rise but swallowed it down before continuing: "Clearly this raven black dire wolf is a messenger of our goddess, a divine agent sent to make sure that the dire wolves could slay the mighty guulvorg!" The crowd's volume and her gorge were both rising rapidly, so she decided to finish with one last statement. "So, let's hear it for our five champions and their victories in the name of the Raven Queen!" As the crowd broke out into tumultuous celebration Khairissa turned away in disgust, practically retching from the experience of having to praise the blasted beasts. She had toyed with the wolves long enough: after a few days had passed and the town had calmed back down Khairissa would have the wolves silently disposed of and tossed out with the garbage. She only regretted that her pride had kept her from making the decision before she paid Morgel his exorbitant prices for the worgs and guulvorg. She avoided looking at the slave's corpse and turned to the guard who had broken her free from her rage: "It seems I'm very…energetic at the moment. Have a couple of the more athletic male slaves meet me in the dungeon within ten minutes." After the guard nodded his understanding and ran off Khairissa stormed off in the direction of the dungeons herself, wondering what acts could relieve her stress and anger from watching the wolves escape their fate.


	4. To Free a Wolf

It was a couple of days since the fight with the guulvorg, and all five dire wolves were pacing around their pens nervously. The pens were even more quiet than usual, the monthly celebration to the Raven Queen having decimated the supply of creatures for the coliseum. For the past couple of days they had often heard the sound of people gathering outside, although none of them could make out what the reason was. Meadow Runner had noticed the number steadily declining, though, and his instincts suggested that it might not be a good thing. The activity outside their pens had increased dramatically as the day approached evening, and it was only a few minutes until the wolves caught a whiff of the disturbance: although still clearly far away, they all began to pick up the smell of smoke in the air. Meadow and the others suspected there was an uncontrolled fire somewhere, the fear of loose flames something they had often witnessed whenever an orc in the encampment was especially foolish around a fire.

Meadow heard the faintest sound of a footstep, as someone well versed in stealth walked towards where the wolves were kept. All of them remembered the night they were stolen and began growling, even Midnight Glen's Shadow joining in; this time he would share the fate of the pack, regardless of whether or not it was the safest route. As the footsteps approached, however, Crashing Bear sniffed at the air and slowly drifted into silence. Meadow was astonished to see Bear's tail began to wag back and forth, especially when Branches Whipped by Gales and Rolling Boulder joined in. After a second Meadow also stopped growling as he finally picked up on the very welcome scent of leather and tree resin that they had all come to associate with Crashing Bear's elven rider. As the wolves watched they saw a goggled face peer over at them through the gate before the rest of the lithe female elf's form separated from the shadows. Meadow had to consciously stop himself from howling in joy at the sight of one of their masters, especially as the lithe elf quickly moved to unlock the gate holding the wolves back. Meadow hung back with Shadow, though, as he realized that the scents of both his and Shadow's masters were muted; they were not there in person, although they had to be close to the town if their scent still hung so heavy on the other three masters.

Meadow and Shadow waited until the three masters had checked over their mounts, with all three wolves shamelessly wagging their tails at the sight of their masters. Branches Whipped by Gales nuzzled at the hand of her human rider, the younger littermate of Meadow's rider, while both Bear and Rolling Boulder stood stoically while their riders checked over the worst of their injuries. Eventually the three masters looked satisfied that the wolves were in suitable condition to escape, with the elf running over to quickly unlock the gate before adroitly spring onto Bear. The half-elf who rode Boulder also nimbly climbed on, while Gales' master surprisingly lifted himself onto her shoulders by pulling himself up by the beams across the top of their pen. For the first time Meadow noticed that all three of their masters looked tougher than when they had last seen them, with Gales' rider being noticeably thicker about his muscles. Meadow shook his head then moved over to stand by his companions. Without a word the party surged out of the animal pens, Bear slamming the gate off by its hinges before the wolves began to race down the streets of Welgard. Meadow barely even noticed the two guards bowled over by Gales and Boulder as they all ran away from the pens they had been trapped in for more than a month; the only thing on Meadows mind was when he would get a chance to see his rider again as he enjoyed the exhilaration of running without the specter of battle looming immediately before him.

* * *

Meadow Runner and the other wolves quickly escaped the town, the panicked crowds parting before the wolves and their riders. After several minutes the three riders signaled for the wolves to stop, leaving Meadow and the others to sit and relax as they enjoyed being free wolves once again. Crashing Bear, Branches Whipped by Gales, and Rolling Boulder all stayed close to their masters, who quickly settled down to wait and tended to their mounts. Meadow and Midnight Glen's Shadow stayed off to the side, although they both ate the small amount of meat that the human quickly brought over before returning to Gales. After a few more minutes passed Meadow got up as a welcome scent reached his nose. He watched as his master appeared over the horizon, accompanied by the party's lone drow member and another human whose scent was unfamiliar. Meadow watched as she ran over to her littermate and handed off the other human before approaching him. As she approached he couldn't hold back a small whine, and he watched as worry and the pain of remembered separation entered his rider's eyes. She started to talk to him and stroke his fur, eventually looking up and imparting a sense of need. Meadow let out a small bark of assent, content in the love he had felt in her ministrations. As she began to move to mount he lowered his shoulders to make it easier. After she was secure he felt her gesture to the east, and he ran off with his heart feeling as light as the sunbeams that had danced over his fur when his mother named him.

* * *

Midnight Glen's Shadow watched as the final two riders returned with the new human, the female escorting the unfamiliar figure to her littermate after she separated from his drow master. He watched his rider approach until they could see in each other's eyes. After a moment the drow approached and scratched Shadow on his chin before reaching into his pack and pulling out some of the meat from his trail rations. Shadow waited for his rider to sit before curling his body around the sitting figure, contentedly chewing on the meat as his rider gently tended to his wounds. The drow didn't speak any words but Shadow didn't need them: for the first time in a month he could relax, safe in the knowledge that they all had their partners back.


End file.
